Crazy Quilt

Hand made things had to be useful on a farm in North Dakota in the early 1900s; like so many other women of her generation, Mary Jane McFadden spent her time making quilts and clothing to keep her children warm. But as the children grew, as the boys left home and the girls learned to sew their own clothes, her heart yearned to make something pretty; something that was every bit as decorative as it was useful.

All her life, she'd saved scraps; bits of wool and cotton, mostly, but here and there a piece of velvet, satin or silk had come her way. As she sorted through them, she found remnants of the dress Pearl took her first steps in, Effie's high school graduation gown (the first in her family to finish high school), generations of trousers for the boys, and her own wedding dress.

She took out the largest pieces of muslin she could find, and began piecing a crazy quilt on them. On it, she appliqued initials and other symbols that held special meanings for her; she used every scrap of beauty that had ever come her way. Although she died before she finished her quilt of many colors, it was a labor of love, done just to please her own eyes.

Many, many years later, when little Effie was a grandmother herself, she gave the unfinished quilt to her eldest granddaughter. They worked on it together; carefully finishing the quilting with fancy embroidery stitches and repairing the frayed edges with scraps from their own lives.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, iolite, citrine, freshwater pearls, and seed bead embroidered collar with lampwork by Lisa Atchison of Touch of Glass Designs. Hand fabricated.

Take the Plunge

Marti took a deep breath and jumped. She knew that if she thought about it, she'd find reasons not to do it, and, right now, she wanted to do it. She felt the water close over her head, and she pushed her panic away. It would be okay. She would make it okay.

How could she explain this feeling when she didn't really understand it herself? The rush of giving herself up to the moment; the exhilaration of just acting, without always thinking about thinking things through. It was the only thing she trusted, and if it let her down, well, she'd deal with the fallout. She had to have this escape; she couldn't be expected to control everything all the time.

Just as she felt that her lungs would surely burst, she surfaced. Safe again.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Seed beads, sterling silver, and vintage glass cabochons in a princess length necklace. Hand fabricated; bead weaving and chain maille.

Yei Laughs

The sun was just peeking over the hills as she opened the door; she smiled and acknowledged the serendipity of timing that had come to earmark this trip. She spent a moment in silent prayer, thankful for the pleasure the sunrise had given her. The air was crisp and cold, but the sun would warm the earth very quickly. She would not need a jacket.

She was suddenly, ravenously, hungry. Huevos Rancheros, beans, tortillas and cup after cup of hot coffee; she could eat a cowboy under the table this morning. There was a place just down the street, and she had a funny feeling that they would be unlocking the door just about now.

They were.

She grinned, delighted with life and looking forward to breakfast.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, turquoise inlaid cherry burl cabochon by TazWood Finely Turned Creations, turquoise, onyx, coral, seed and bugle beads. Hand fabricated 16" necklace.

In the private collection of Linda Winsor

A Ribbon of Faith

Marti never gave up. She might look small and delicate; she might act demure and easily led, but she clung to her ideals as tightly as any vine that climbed towards the sun. Marti was a determined young woman. She would have been surprised to learn that the rest of the world mistook her agreeability for compliance; she would have laughed at the fact that her soft smiles and gentle ways allowed others to think that she followed their lead.

Marti went where she wanted to go. True, she nearly always went secretly; she didn't often share her thoughts or desires with others. She let them think what they would; she didn't really believe they would do otherwise, and saw no point in making waves.

Her quiet determination would see her through.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, seed beads, Swarovski crystals, petal pearls, labradorite. Hand fabricated choker length necklace of bead weaving and chain maille.

Russian Princess

Anastasia stepped carefully over the litter of toys in her living room and sighed. She should be picking them up, but suddenly the clutter seemed overwhelming. She swept her hand across the mess on the sofa, taking a perverse pleasure in her ability to make plastic action figures take flight. Before sitting down, she checked for remaining weapons; a plastic spear was still a spear.

Good. Nothing had escaped her wrath. She was the all-powerful Mominator. She curled up, hugging her knees to her chest, not really wanting to let humor reclaim her and send her on a search and rescue mission for the living room floor. No Mominator. Not today. Instead, she simply closed her eyes and let her life recede.

Anastasia stepped carefully out of the carriage, holding her skirts just high enough to keep them from tripping her. She nodded to the footman as he returned her hand to her father's, and pulled her furs tighter around her to ward off the chill in the air. She was so glad to be home.

She laughed in spite of herself. Time to clean up this palace.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, eudialite, and corundum necklace. Chain maille, hand fabricated.

Galapagos

It was her secret, the place imagination carried her whenever life was too much to handle. She had no idea what it was really like; it was the idea of it that charmed her, and she'd never had any interest in finding out anything more about it than what she'd learned in the fourth grade.

The Galapagos islands: Isolated. Untouched. Protected from time and civilization.

She leaned back and let the dust of her day disappear into a sandy beach, where giant tortoises basked in the sun, and curious birds had no fear of her presence.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Gail Kops of Beadles. Hand fabricated.

Darkest before the dawn

The mountains were deep purple, and so far away that they looked as if they were cut out and pasted on the horizon. There were millions of stars in the sky; more than she'd ever seen before. The moon was low and as pale as a ghost. She watched the bats return to their roosts and knew that the long night was nearly at an end.

She'd watched the moon climb and descend; she'd felt the earth spinning below the stars. She'd stared through the darkness, unseeing, listening to the night dwellers circle around her. She was cold and alone, and had wondered if daylight would return. There were times when she could not imagine anything but night.

At last, the pale fingers of dawn extinguished the stars. She recognized the bright blue of the desert sky, and felt the tears ran down her face. They had been a long time coming.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, charoite, turquoise. Hand fabricated.

Dreaming of spring

The sky was that deep blue color that only comes once or twice a year, and the sunlight was glinting off the ice and snow in a way that made her feel anything was possible. She could see into the very heart of the earth where the irises slept, curled up in their corms, dreaming of spring.

Her breathing slowed, and she dreamed their dreams, folded tight in her own corm, held fast by her own roots. She was locked into winter, and had been for many years. She stirred and smiled a tiny smile, imagining her petals unfurled.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, opal, and Sleeping Beauty turquoise ring. Hand fabricated.

Forget-me-not

She'd planted them in every garden she'd ever had; the first had been transplants from her mother's garden which had spread like wildfire around the front porch. She loved seeing their cheerful little eyes winking at her as she went in and out; in her memory they were always in bloom under sunny California skies. She wondered if they were still there; wondered if someone else enjoyed them the way she had.

After moving across the country, she planted forget-me-nots in three new gardens; this time from seed. She had a strong sentimental attachment to the genus Myosotis, but not to the individual plants; there was no need for her to dig and transplant between gardens any more. In fact, for several years, the seeds came from packets distributed by a local realtor; every spring one arrived in her mailbox and she found a new place to sprinkle the teaspoon of seed that was inside it.

They always came up; but here, they only bloom in Spring.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver and turquoise bracelet. Hand fabricated.

Bumpy road

No one said it would be easy. But did it really have to be so hard? Margot pulled a face at the retreating back of her mother. The woman could be so dense sometimes. How had she gone from knowing everything to knowing nothing? Maybe empathy evaporates in your 40s. Margot shrugged. Whatever. It was what it was. Deal with it.

Catherine closed the door very softly, and sat on the edge of her bed. Margot could be so cruel; was she doing it intentionally? How had she gone from hanging on her every word, to hating her every thought? Catherine put her fingers on the edges of her eyelids and pressed gently until she felt the tears stop welling.

It was what it was. Deal with it.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver and amethyst bracelet. Hand fabricated.

Robin's egg blues

"They're at it again. Silly birds!" Robyn smiled affectionately at her almost-namesakes. They were building their nest in the roses that arched over the main path from her driveway to her door again this year. Back and forth they flew, carrying the bits and pieces that they would use to weave into a very sloppy looking nest.

Every year it was the same. The female would sit her eggs, hunching down as low as she could get as the family went to and fro beneath her. The first year, they walked the long way around, not wanting to disturb her, but as the years went by, they gradually gave up that courtesy. Now they looked right into the nest as they passed.

Every year, the babies hatched; sometimes the nest didn't hold and they fell to the ground. When Robyn or her sisters found them alive, they gently put them back, knowing that the mother bird would have no trouble accepting them. When the babies died, the girls used to hold funerals; Robyn couldn't quite remember when they'd stopped.

She watched them for a few minutes more; then went on with her day.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver and turquoise bracelet. Hand fabricated.

Small wonder

"I just can't get anything right," Courtney muttered, kicking a rock that had suddenly appeared in her path. All that accomplished was scuffing the toe of her brand new, thigh high, boots. She examined it ruefully, hoping that a polishing would remove the scratches. Even the blinking earth was out to get her today.

She'd tried so hard to get him to notice her; she'd done everything short of grabbing his lapels and planting a kiss on his mouth. And don't think that hadn't occurred to her; she'd only abandoned that idea reluctantly. It might surprise some people, but Courtney had her limits. And snogging a total stranger, even a stranger as lovely as this one, was definitely off limits.

Pity.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver and tourmaline bracelet. Hand fabricated.

Flume

She'd known this place all her life; it seemed impossible that this was the first time she'd actually been here. It had always been part of her, her secret joy and comfort, the sight and sound that swept away the fears and cobwebs in her mind.

She tipped her head back and looked all the way up to where the mist obscured the top of the cliff; the thin stream of water pouring over the side seemed to come from the sky itself. As it fell closer to earth, it seemed to widen; was it simply a trick of perspective or an actual repealing of the laws of gravity?

She didn't care. She was here.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver chain maille necklace. Hand fabricated.

Disappearing girl

She kept her heart hidden. Not deliberately, no; in fact, it was something she was not even aware of doing. She thought everything about her was plainly visible; she was under the impression that everyone knew how she was feeling most, if not all, of the time. She realized that people often acted oddly in the face of her feelings; in truth, no one ever really responded the way she expected, but she felt that was a lack in her own expectations, not evidence of their ignorance.

She hid those feelings, too. She knew she was hiding them; she had no desire to hurt people by letting them know that they did not meet her expectations. It wasn't their fault. She carefully tied her disappointments into little knots and skillfully wove them into something more palatable; she looked for the good in people and circled her thoughts around it.

And always, always, she put a smile on her face.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver and tourmaline bracelet. Hand fabricated.

Animal Magnetism

"This'll make their eyes pop," she whispered to her own reflection as she held up the clothes she was about to put on. She turned sideways to the mirror, patted her tummy, and satisfied herself that it was flat enough. She turned a bit more, tightening her muscles; yup, she still had it. Well, as long as she remembered to squeeze, she still had it. Okay, okay, she still had enough of it.

It had been a long time since she'd gone out on a real date; she wasn't sure she knew the rules anymore. She gave herself a mental shake; what did rules matter? She'd just make up her own and that was that. A little attitude would take her as far as she needed to go.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

14k gold-filled, sterling silver, lampwork by Donna Millard of Fyrebeadz. Hand fabricated.

Think Global

"What was that saying?" she muttered, "Something global, something local?" She stared at her cat, as if expecting an answer, but got nothing. The cat yawned and blinked but didn't speak.

"Figures," she spat in the general direction of the cat as she got up from the computer and left the room, "I don't know why I ask you anything, anyway."

She caught sight of herself in her bedroom mirror and let out a whoop of laughter. Never mind the world; she'd better start with her own hair. It was standing straight up as a result of being raked by her fingers while she racked her brain for that trite saying that was still missing from her mind.

"Never mind," she told the cat, loftily, "I never use cliches, anyway."

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver. Hand fabricated chain and lentil beads.

Opening

It was too early to wake him, so she slipped on her jeans and yesterday's T-shirt, and, shoes in hand, walked out the door, barefoot. She closed the door without making a sound; she'd had a lot of practice at leaving silently. The sun had not yet shown itself over the hills, but the sky was bright enough for her to see where she was going. When she reached the street, she eased her tennis shoes onto her feet.

She started out at a lope, wanting, no, needing to breathe deeply as the night evaporated into morning.  Her lungs filled with cool air, and, after awhile, she slowed down.  She'd run far enough.  She stopped to catch her breath and stretched her hamstrings against a tree; she ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it, and looked around.

Hanging from the tree, just inches from her nose, was a vine with some tightly wound dark purple flower buds on them.  As she watched, they slowly unfurled.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, uncut black diamond. Hand forged and hand fabricated.

January Thaw

It had warmed up enough to melt off all but the largest drifts of snow; the creek had burst through yesterday's ice dams and was flowing freely again. The ground was almost muddy; it squelched lightly under her boots, but she did not sink into it the way she would in spring.

There was something so wonderful and unexpected about a January thaw; the leaves that had fallen a few months ago were still recognizable as leaves; a few remaining patches of snow lightened shady spots; and the sun shone like gold thorough the bare branches of the trees. She watched the play of light on the forest floor; she hummed along to the music of the creek.

Winter was not over; there would be more ice and snow, but today, oh, today it was spring in her heart.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

14k gold-filled, sterling silver, copper, tourmaline, freshwater pearl. Hand fabricated.

Frozen Flight

It had been well below freezing for more than a week when she finally took out her old skates and cleaned the blades; she had not been on the ice since she was a girl, yet her mother had kept them. She'd seen them in the hall closet when she hung up her coat; every time she opened that door, they winked at her. It was not a trick of the light; those skates actually winked.

Someone had already swept the snow from the ice, creating a large oval arena; she noticed a few holes further out where fishermen had drilled; the ice was obviously thick enough for them. Nevertheless, hearing her father's voice in her head, she picked up the largest stone she could manage and dropped it onto the ice about a foot from the edge of the lake. If the edges held, the ice was still strong. No cracks.

She brushed some snow off a bench and began to lace up her skates. Her fingers moved quickly, strong and sure; they remembered. She stood up awkwardly, a little nervous, and stepped gingerly onto the ice. She stood there, waiting for something, and then took a tentative baby step. Before she could talk herself out of it, her knees bent and her legs moved in a deeply buried, nearly instinctual way; carrying her out across the lake.

Eyes bright, she flew.

© 2008 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Robin of Something New 4 You. Hand fabricated.

A New Year

"Well, at least this year's ending better than it began," she thought with a flicker of a smile. Although, really, at the beginning of last year, she'd had no idea how bad things were. Nor did she really know how good things were now. So perhaps there wasn't much difference after all. She'd been as hopeful a year ago as she was today; however, she sincerely hoped that she was not as clueless as she'd been 365 days ago.

"Nice way to begin," she thought, ruefully, "not exactly a strong start." But never mind. Today was the last day of what had been a very difficult year; and tomorrow morning would present her with a beautiful, brand-new, shiny clean new year to start her life all over again. Perhaps this time...

She felt definite possibilities.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, freshwater pearls, moonstone necklace. Hand fabricated.